UC-NRLF 


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littp://wwW.arcliive.org/details/beckiesbookofbasOObeckrich 


(§tc^WB  (gooR  of  (gae^itt^e 
6^  (mu.  "mmam  (gecamatt 

Ouf^t  of  "Qgacftfi^eBa/'  "(Uncfean  anb  ^^joffeb 
from  i0e  OJJotfb,"  <Bfc.,  <Bfc. 


-   '.•:  •%•  •  ••• 


qfhiBfifi^eb  6e 
3fo0.  gjl.  ©nbeiTBon, 
^acramenfo, 
1910 


COPYRIGHT  19IO 

■Y 

JOS.  M.  ANDERSON 

•ACRAMENTO,   CALIFORNIA 

FIRST  EDITION   DEC.   20 

l»IO 


4o  i^t  frienbB  ttj^o  a66ifet)tafe  mg  name  anb  caff  me 
(gecftie,  anb  f o  f 6oBe  unftnot»n  3  giue  a  t^oug^f,  a  t»otb 
Serein  f^f  mtg^^  ^efp,  amuBt  anb  enf erf ain. 


281626 


-1 


3f  in  toH  3  senb  mg  tvajwarb  fdncieB, 
3f  Bceb  3't>e  60t»n  can  germindte  no  ^dttn, 
^^ff  3  not  5ope  anb  truBf  mg  eotmng 
5inb  0oif  reBponeit^e,  tic^  dnb  tvdrm  ? 


(^(xBiinQS 


I  HEN  we  have  wound  up 
the  threads  and  woven 
them  into  Hfe's  web  and  woof, 
when  the  work  is  ended,  and 
we  return  it  to  the  Master,  the 
soiled,  stained  and  blotted  texture 
will  be  judged  on  the  great  Day 
of  Examination,  and  the  souls 
which  will  light  heaven,  or  flood 
hell,  have  had  the  earth  seal  lifted  and 
each  judged  according  to  what  it  has 
wrought — then  will  not  the  soul  that 
receives  a  passport  to  the  bastions  of 
God's  eternal  citadel  where  not  even 
the  echo  of  a  sigh  can  enter,  feel  its 
unworthiness  having  done  so  little  to 
receive  so  much. 


The  sheltered  woman  to  whom  fate  has  been 
kind,  one  who  has  not  found  it  necessary  to  go  out 
in  the  world  to  fight  for  sustenance,  has  no  incen- 
tive, no  excuse  for  wrong  doing,  as  may  have  the 
unsheltered  woman.  Yet  it  is  the  well -cared -for 
woman  whose  acts  are  often  nameless  and  unrec- 
ognized by  law. 


(gecftie'fi 


The  skunk  may  utter  the  inaudible  discord  of  his 
race,  nothing  else  is  expected,  it  is  his  defense.  But 
the  man  who  by  innuendo  and  aspersions  casts  his 
foul  suspicions  broadcast,  sparing  neither  sex,  v/hat 
of  him?  He  is  more  degraded  than  the  skunk,  he 
has  no  excuse,  no  defense — the  beast  is  the  better  of 
the  two. 


/i'^.f^^^^^^ 


We  read  that  Solomon  with  all  his  wisdom  for- 
sook the  religions  of  his  fathers  and  became  a  follow- 
er of  Ashtoreth,  the  goddess  of  the  Zidonians  and 
gave  himself  up  to  idolatry.  It  was  through  the 
overabundance  of  his  wives  and  concubines  that  he 
was  beguiled.  If  he,  the  greatest  of  wise  men  was 
allured  and  beguiled  therefrom,  may  not  weaker  mor- 
tals turn  from  the  paths  their  fathers  trod  and  be 
followers  of  sects,  fancies  and  the  great  god  Whim? 


Help  with  palms  turned  upward, 
Lifting  toward  the  sky, 
Give  strength  to  the  weak  and  wayward. 
Do  not  pass  the  despairing  by. 
Lift  from  the  Sahara  of  cruel  hfe — 
The  helpless  from  worry,  toil  and  strife. 
And  by  your  hand  uplifted  by  you  controlled, 
Hope  may  illumine  some  heart  with  friendship's 
pure  gold. 


(;§aBiit\QB 


Frugality  is  well  enough,  if  one  knows  the  anti- 
dote, for  it  becomes  a  disease  as  life  advances.  The 
oil  of  extravagance  is  the  best  lubricant  for  the 
cramped  hands  of  the  miser. 


Help  a  man  to  maintain  his  moral  worth  before 
the  world's  injustice  destroys  him;  misery  is  every- 
where, help  to  aleviate  it.  Only  the  narrow  and 
miserly  live  for  themselves.  Some  one  wrote,  "Every 
man  has  in  his  heart  a  slumbering  hog" — if  born  with 
the  beast,  feed  him  on  haseesh  all  your  life,  and  be 
true  to  your  manhood  and  your  kind.  Time  is  re- 
sponsible for  ruins  of  the  works  of  men.  Let  yours 
be  the  effort  to  undo  time's  work  on  men — and  save 
from  ruin  some  one  sinking  under  adversity's  stings. 

^--"-^^-"-^ ^-... 

How  easy  were  peace  and  contentment  found. 
Even  m  the  mart  of  wealth  and  in  its  golden  glow, 
If  in  the  cruel  haste  amid  the  social  whirl 
We  keep  the  vision  clear  for  poorer  friends. 
If  the  senseless  jests  and  half  veiled  sneers 
Flung  out  with  thoughtless  recklessness, 
'Gainst  those  who  feel  the  world's  destroying  storms, 
Were  only  low  sweet  words  that  might  console. 
Some  weary  heart,  some  over  burdened  soul. 
Then  life's  great  riddle  might  be  plain  to  even  one  of 
these. 


10 


QSecftie'B 


I  am  not  one 
who  fattens  on 
strife,  nor  feasts  on 
the  mishaps  of  my 
enemies.  I  would 
rather  train  the 
tendrils  of  my 
morning  glories 
and  teach  them  the 
way  they  should 
go,  than  to  train 
my  neighbors,  ei- 
ther in  thought  or 
action.  I  would 
_  rather  gaze  into 

«ll^liynllllllllll^!!!llilMlllllHlillllllllIlfllllf!Ill'  the  heavenly  blue 
flower  cups  of  my  own  moon  flowers  and  gather  the 
great  bunches  of  wisteria  and  odorous  daphne 
blooms,  than  busy  myself  about  what  is  in  the  cups  of 
my  next  door  neighbor.  I  prefer  breathing  the  air  of 
God's  great  generous  free  out-of-door  life,  than  trying 
to  sample  or  comment  on  that  within  other  people's 
doors.  I  would  rather  go  through  life  moulting  my 
own  illusions  even  while  growing  new  ones  than  pry 
into  affairs  that  I  consider  belong  to  the  great  Judge 
of  the  quick  and  the  dead. 


(§o^Biir\QB 


11 


The  saving  grace  of  humor  in  me,  and  my  ability 
to  steer  around  the  uncertain  characteristics  of 
people,  who  show  placid,  pleasing  and  innocent  sur- 
faces, has  helped  me  to  avoid  many  snags  in  the 
current  of  life.  I  can  see  far  enough  below  the  out- 
ward seeming  to  detect  the  hidden  qualities,  the  sham, 
the  hypocrisy,  and  deceit  that  lie  beneath,  as  well  as 
the  sterling  truth  and  honesty  in  those  who,  like  my- 
self believe  in  honesty  and  stability.  I  do  not  like 
shams.  I  want  silk,  not  near  silk,  all  wool  or  linen, 
not  near  or  mixed,  in  goods  and  in  friends.  An  out 
and  out  friend  or  enemy  I  like,  but  mixed  or  uncer- 
tain qualities  need  to  be  treated  with  humor,  other- 
wise life  would  simply  be  pathetic. 


The  sacrificial 
days  are  not  over. 
Look  at  the  deaths 
through  ignorance 
and  greed.  Butch- 
ered to  make  a 
doctor's  holiday 
ought  to  be  put  on 
the  tombstone  of 
about  one-third  of 
those  who  die  fol- 
lowing  surgical 
operations. 


12  Qgecftie'B 


N  JAPAN  the  single  petal  of  the 
chrysanthemum  is  placed  in  a 
wine  cup  and  handed  around 
as  an  assurance  of  long  life 
and  happiness.  For  me,  I 
prefer  to  give  my  friends  bits 

'IlilliPWn^ "'"'"         ^^  fragrant  mint  with  acces- 
P^'™  sories.     This  is  far  more 

pleasing  to  them  and  as  conducive  to  happiness  and 
longevity  as  is  the  former  custom. 

Hope  is  a  loan,  one  we  should  bestow  freely,  for 
from  such  loans  the  heart  receives  interest  Be  not 
miserly  give  hope  and  its  accessories. 

Why  should  you,  the  successful  man  look  with  a 
covert  sneer  through  the  smoke  of  a  cigar,  upon  the 
man  who  is  down  in  the  ditch,  who  has  not  had  the 
foothold  that  you  perhaps  have  had  through  inherit- 
ance or  chance.  You  should  remember  that  stern 
rugged  manly  souls  have  worked  through  all  ages, 
and  rose  brave,  beautiful  and  triumphant.  At  least 
he  does  not  need  you,  the  cynic.  He  is  worth  more 
in  this  world  than  a  dozen  of  those  who  assume  the 
air  of — I  am  greater  than  thou,  while  he  a  part  and 
parcel  of  God's  great  plan,  is  earning  his  living  by  the 
sweat  of  his  brow  and  fulfilling  the  law. 


(§aBiinQSi  \} 


There  they  waited  with  bulbous,  strawberry 
looking  beaks  that  spoke  of  high  tides  at  the  bar  of 
beakers,  that  have  assisted  these  devotees  around 
the  curves  and  along  the  short  hne  to  a  shore  where 
drinks  are  unknown. 


Aluminum  and  lead  will  not  alloy.  They  mix 
when  heated,  but  separate  when  cool.  Like  many 
marriages  they  seem  one  when  love  is  warm  and 
bright,  but  when  passion  cools  they  find  instead  of 
being  one,  they  are  separate  beings. 

If  a  man  is  late,  it  does  not  help  matters,  nor  is 
it  likely  to  make  him  try  to  be  punctual,  if  he  is  met 
by  his  wife  with  sighs  like  the  exhaust  of  an  engine. 
After  business  hours  a  man  should  not  be  expected 
to  strike  the  keyhole  to  the  minute — he  is  but  human. 


She  was  so  happy  with  the  mere  man,  that  judg- 
ing from  limited  observations,  I  thought  she  must 
have  struck  a  bargain  counter,  or  rummage  sale 
when  she  found  him.  I  am  not  posing  as  an  image 
breaker,  hence  would  not  shatter  her  idol.  Time 
would  do  that.  She  would  find  her  will-power  not 
equal  to  his  wont-power  soon  enough. 


14  QgecftU'B 


I  believe  in  the  ancient  doctrine,  that  the  only 
gifts  that  have  merit  are  those  that  are  given  without 
thoughts  of  reward. 

The  faithful  and  the  afraid,  stick  to  the  narrow 
and  to  the  common  place  paved  with  conventions. 
Variety  is  the  wine  of  life,  and  Theosophy  may  be 
worth  while  after  all.  It  is  delightful  to  know  such 
a  number  of  entrancing  things  that  are  not  so. 

Every  intellectual  life  means  one  that  would  be 
worth  the  perusal  if  it  were  written.  The  passions, 
that  like  the  threads  of  lightning,  illumine  a  dark 
sky,  play  hide  and  seek,  come  and  go,  brighten  or 
darken  our  lives  according  to  their  intensity,  their 
purity  or  falseness.  Yet  they  control  us  as  the  tides 
in  the  sea.  Sometimes  we  are  at  the  mercy  of  our 
passions,  for  they  surge  up  and  envelope  us  despite 
our  will  or  efforts.  Then  again  we  get  control  and 
are  the  masters  of  ourselves,  or  so  we  fancy.  Ever 
and  ever  it  is  the  same.  The  game  of  life,  the  secret 
power  of  personal  passion  is  strong  as  are  the  tides, 
making  mere  playthings  of  us  until  they  leave  us 
spent  and  broken,  useless  hulks  upon  life's  shore. 
Yet  the  poorest  hulk  has  had  strange  inexplicable 
elements  mingled  and  interwoven  in  its  existence  that 
has  made  it  a  miracle  and  a  wonder. 


Qgasfinsfi  15 


Searching  for  the  pot  of  gold  at  the  end  of  the 
rainbow  may  not  result  in  finding  gold,  but  what  ra- 
diant glorious  colors  gleam  along  the  searcher's  way. 
Wealth  does  not  always  mean  money. 


Small  wonder  that  the  seeker  after  truth  and 
honesty  flies  to  nature  for  comfort  and  stability — 
from  the  city  streets,  people  and  houses,  where  de- 
ceit, vanity,  and  flattery  grow  and  flourish,  as  in  a 
hot  house  atmosphere;  where  there  are  feasts  of 
treason,  and  over-flow  of  bowl,  when  reputations 
suffer  and  innocents  are  slaughtered.  Friendship! 
what  horrors  are  committed  in  thy  name. 


Of  all  the  objectionable  people  we  meet  in  the 
world,  the  very  v/orst  are  those  who  say,  "I  would 
not  do  as  they  do,"  "My  way  is  this."  They  are  en- 
tirely unconscious  of  the  fact  that  their  way  would 
probably  make  the  criticised  person  miserable.  The 
"my  way"  and  "do  as  I  do"  people  are  usually  self- 
conscious,  self-satisfied,  unsufferable  prigs,  whose 
ways  if  followed  would  not  tend  to  help  humanity  in 
its  devious  ways,  to  see  with  clearer  vision  its  errors. 
It  were  far  better  to  be  charitable  and  lend  a  helping 
hand,  or  give  a  kindly  word  to  those  who  may  nqt 
know  or  understand  the  better  way,  rather  than 
force  them  into  "my  way"  of  thinking  and  doing. 


16  (gecftie'B 


Doing  good  to  him  who  needs  it,  is  investing  in 
a  savings  bank  from  which  one  always  draws  in- 
terest and  that  compounds  according  to  the  amount 
invested.  Yet  how  very  few  men  invest  with  this 
particular  idea  or  material. 

'•"♦ .^..^^^^^^^^y)^ 

Some  one  who  did  not  have  the  bump  of  latitude 
and  longitude  well  developed  said:  "A  woman  is 
born  with  virtue,  a  man  has  to  acquire  it."  What 
nonsense !  Virtue  and  honesty  are  simply  matters  of 
education  and  locality;  and  faith  cure  is  like  latitude 
and  longitude,  it  has  no  existence  save  in  the  minds 
of  men. 


Civilization  has  done  much  for  us  in  many  ways, 
in  other  respects  not.  If  the  primeval  man  was 
exalted  beyond  his  fellow  men,  it  was  because  of 
strength,  and  the  use  of  the  neolithic  ax  and  club. 
Now  exaltation  by  the  club  means  barred  doors,  pass- 
words and  grips,  and  those  who  are  of  the  elect, 
build  pedestals  in  imagination  and  are  exalted  above 
the  dwellers  in  the  open.  Yet  vice  in  him  who  wears 
a  dress-suit  with  a  double  three  degree  button  or 
star — that  eats  opium  or  takes  absinthe,  is  vice  and 
equally  as  bad  as  he  who  gets  drunk  in  overalls. 

Perverted  morals  are  none  the  less  perverted 
because  of  moving  in  an  upper  strata  of  social  life. 


QgaBftngB 


ir 


Never  miss  a  joy  or 
possible  pleasure  in  this 
world  of  trouble.    Life  is 
short  and  we  can- 
not afford  to  put  a 
bar  across  any 
path  that  may 
lead  to  happi- 
ness.   Don't  go 
about  with 
broom  and  duster  sweeping  up 
or  seeking  disagreeable  things. 
There  will  be  enough  without 
hunting. 


"<■ 


'# 


The  Femme  du  Monde  makes  no  secret  of  her 
calling  or  of  her  station  in  life.  It  is  often  the  society 
woman,  the  woman  in  high  places,  in  a  refined  upper 
strata  of  social  life,  that  assumes  the  air  of  living  and 
being  guided  by  only  the  purest  aims  and  emotions. 
The  one  is  living  her  life  by  necessity,  or  has  been 
led  to  it  by  wrong  influences.  The  other  amuses  her- 
self by  subterfuge,  playing  with  the,  to  her,  en- 
chanting but  fascinating  phases  of  passion,  that  is 
alluring  though  hidden  under  a  guise  of  purity 
and  estheticism,  but  which  is  none  the  less  pure 
animalism. 


18  Qgecftie'a 


She  was  wise  beyond  all  doubt,  ignorant  when 
it  was  discreet  to  be  so,  and  she  found  it  a  very  good 
paying  quality,  when  questioned  about  the  foibles 
and  frailties  of  her  friends. 


Yes,  I  know  what  it  is  to  be  surrounded  by 
creeds  and  dogmas,  know  what  the  narrow  en- 
closure and  confines  means.  So  I  clipped  a  section 
of  the  barbed  wires  and  let  myself  out  in  the  open. 


The  Buddhists  say  that  the  aim  of  the  ignorant 
is  pleasure,  the  pursuit  of  the  wise  is  happiness;  but 
it  seems  to  me  the  Hindu  servant's  creed  strikes  the 
solar-plexus  of  humanity  in  general  about  right: 
"Nothing  to  do,  nothing  to  wear,  and  plenty  to  eat." 


Many  of  us  pine  in  the  "imprisonment  of  the 
actual,"  while  yearning  with  hungry  souls  for  free- 
dom, for  unhedged  spaces,  where  we  might  dwell 
and  create  a  home  according  to  our  wishes  and  our 
tastes.  Very  few,  if  any  of  us,  live  the  beautiful 
dream  lives  of  our  fancies  and  our  hearts  desires. 
We  weary  of  the  mischief  of  the  envious,  and  the 
whisperer  of  evil  thoughts,  and  suggestions,  and  we 
wish  to  be  delivered  from  those  who  deserve  to,  and 
probably  have — according  to  the  Koran,  reserved 
apartments  in  Al  Hotama. 


Qgafiiin^B  19 


If  literature  is  a  matter  of  passion  and  art  a 
secondary  sexual  manifestation,  is  it  not  our  duty  to 
encourage  the  best  of  each  branch,  and  benefit  our- 
selves by  a  wise  selection  ? 

"You  are  part  hyena  always  grinning,  yet  a  very 
tiger  in  your  passions  and  desires  "  she  said.  "And 
what  are  you,  my  censor?  he  replied.  "Composite'* 
she  answered  "not  one  of  the  animals  predominating 
in  me."  "I  do  not  agree  with  you.  I  think  you  are 
principally  cat." 


There  is  too  much  stress,  too  much  fear  and 
worry  given  over  to  germs,  etc.  I  try  to  forget  it  all 
in  looking  out  over  the  great  sparkling  antiseptic 
ocean,  and  thank  God  that  it,  and  the  starry  skies  are 
as  yet  undisfigured  with  trade -marks  of  germ  des- 
troyers and  every  other  conceivable  thing  that  mar 
our  world.  Yet  with  all  the  new  antiseptic  ideas 
and  fads  some  of  us  are  so  old  fashioned  that  we  are 
willing,  when  the  times  comes,  to  be  placed  in  an  old 
fashioned  grave  even  if  not  antiseptic,  and  either  go 
up  or  down  to  an  unmarred  heaven  or  hell,  that 
was  a  good  enough  for  our  ancestors  and  which  we 
hope  will  be  restful;  something  to  be  desired,  after 
dynamos,  megaphones,  phonographes  and  the  locoed- 
automobile  mad  rush  and  roar  of  the  world. 


20  (gecftie'fi 


Nebuchadnezzar's  malady  was  not  bovanthrophy 
but  melancholia.  This  is  proven  by  the  tendency  to 
eat  grass  and  other  raw  things,  as  is  noted  at  the  pre- 
sent time.  In  England  recently  a  lunatic  was  found 
eating  grass  and  this  led  to  his  recovery.  Ye  Gods ! 
How  many  there  are  in  the  world  who  ought  to  be  led 
to  green  pastures. 


I  love  virtue  and  hate  vice  quite  as  reasonably  as 
if  I  had  transferred  my  reasoning  powers  to  a  church 
and  allowed  someone  else  to  direct,  or  do  my  think- 
ing for  me.  Sincere  prayer  is  the  same  everywhere, 
and  is  answered  one  place  as  well  as  another.  I  am 
not  shifting  my  conscience  into  another's  care  and 
thus  shirking  the  responsibility. 


The  Japanese  who  reckon  time  as  the  least  con- 
sideration in  their  work,  differ  greatly  from  Ameri- 
cans, who  in  their  mad  rush  for  supremacy  and  ac- 
cumulations of  wealth  are  followers  of  the  great 
God  Whim,  and  worshippers  of  the  Golden  Calf. 
How  much  better  would  we  be  if  we  took  time  to 
live,  rejecting  the  twin  divinities  of  booze  and  flesh, 
and  all  that  pertains  to  riotous  appetities,  flagging 
sensuality  and  guzzling  bestiality,  and  giving  a  little 
time  to  rest,  to  friendship,  to  purer  lives,  to  love  and 
above  all— to  home. 


Q§asftn00 


21 


The  mel- 
low ripening 
tints  of  Au- 
tumn  and 
time  may  be 
good  for 
chestnuts  if 
not  for  sto- 
ries that  are 
aged  enough  to  have  pa- 
resis. Pathological  fun  is 
well  enough,  but  the  good 
ichthyosaurus  stories  la- 
belled "on  tap",  help  to  make  one's  face,  if  inclined 
to  be  courteous  and  laugh,  look  hke  an  animated 
cob-web. 


Laughter  brushes  its  wings  against  the  serious 
things  of  life  and  it  is  a  good  thing  to  laugh.  There 
are  funny  spots  of  gray  matter  in  the  eternal  make- 
up of  every  one.  Even  in  animals  and  birds  it  is 
noticeable.  The  more  we  try  to  develop  these  spots 
and  cause  a  shrinkage  in.the  grouchy  ones,  the  better 
for  us  all. 


22  (gecftie'B 


In  the  hurry,  the  rush  of  life,  the  desire  to  be 
first,  to  lead  the  procession,  men  seem  to  forget  that 
their  efforts  hasten  the  day  when  they  will  be  the 
first — in  the  funeral  procession. 

Does  wearing  one's  collar  buttoned  at  the  back 
make  all  the  difference  between  vice  and  virtue,  or 
change  the  whole  nature  of  the  man  ?  Yet  his  is  the 
mission,  the  privilege  to  soften  the  pain  and  misery 
of  the  world  and  to  help  us  bear  the  idea  of  death 
and  of  the  unfathomed  mystery  of  the  other  world. 


Society  fawns  and  smiles  on  the  man  whose  pre- 
sent and  past,  no  matter  how  bad,  are  slurred  over, 
forgotten,  redeemed,  by  the  value  of  his  possessions 
and  his  worldly  goods  if  abundant.  But  what  of  the 
women  he  has  wronged  ?  For  them  it  is  monstrous 
to  think  of  redemption  in  this  world  and  grave  doubts 
concerning  the  next;  I  hear  the  mutterings,  the 
whisperings,  in  social  life,  in  circles  and  clubs,  and 
listening,  I  hear  them  between  times,  speaking  of 
charity  which  they  practice  with  ostentation  for  the 
sake  of  their  pet  hobbies.  Yet  all  the  while  an  indis- 
tinct figure  comes  up  before  my  mental  vision,  and  I 
seem  to  see  the  King  of  Kings  stooping  and  writing 
on  the  ground  as  he  did  when  the  accusers  of  the 
Magdalene  shouted  out  against  the  woman. 


(gajsiinsB  2} 


It  is  needful  and  is  an  evidence  of  wisdom  to  en- 
courage folly  now  and  then. 


Thin,  gaunt,  worn  by  envy  and  complaining, 
heavily  if  gaily  caparisoned,  she  was  of  no  uncertain 
age.  The  tell-tale  years  or  mile  stones  were  too  evi- 
dent except  in  this,  her  tongue  was  as  sharp  and  as 
supple  as  though  she  had  lapped  the  waters  of 
eternal  youth. 

Why  should  we  worry  other  people  with  our 
cares,  our  housekeeping  or  our  ailments  ?  It  is  far 
better  to  keep  our  own  dust  for  vacuum  cleaners 
than  to  sprinkle  other  people  with  our  dust  or 
worries. 


"  For  the  thirsty  of  soul  soon  learn  to  know, 
The  moistureless  froth  of  social  show." 

Hence  there  are  women  with  souls  who  find  life 
worth  while  in  their  endeavor  to  better  themselves 
and  their  sex.  Women  who  would  rather  drop  than 
rend  the  veil  called  "charity,"  knowing  that  if  drawn 
aside  might  disclose  to  the  world  the  faults  and 
follies  of  their  friends,  who  perchance  have  in 
moments  of  weakness  burst  asunder  the  bonds  of 
conventionality  and  provincial  rules. 


24  Qgecftie'B 


There  is  something  for  those  who  have  struggled 
to  reach  the  social  crest  to  ponder  over:  That  cream 
is  not  exclusive  because  at  the  top.  There  is  also 
foam  and  scum  on  the  surface  of  things  as  well  as  on 
milk. 

The  car  Juggernaut  was  supposed  to  be  divinely 
ordained,  but  the  priests  alone  were  responsible  for 
the  sacrificial  mania  that  caused  the  hordes  to  be 
ground  under  the  wheels.  They  died  for  their  faith. 
What  of  the  priests  who  encouraged  the  deception  ? 

Her  face  seamed  and  wrinkled,  showed  that  the 
sunshine  had  not  been  too  famihar  with  it,  but  rather 
it  had  the  look  of  being  shut  up  in  dark  unwhole- 
some rooms.  It  was  shriveled  and  pale  like  an  old 
potato  that  has  lain  for  months  in  a  damp  cellar. 
She  looked  doleful  enough  to  be  used  for  a  dummy 
in  front  of  an  undertaker's  establishment.  She  was 
a  human  raincrow  and  gave  one  the  impression  that 
if  it  were  not  drizzling  that  clouds  or  fog  would  soon 
appear.  There  was  nothing  cheery  or  hopeful  about 
her  appearance.  In  fact,  there  were  no  bright  days 
for  her;  she  never  saw  the  sun  except  through 
smoked  glasses.  Yet  she  felt  "called"  to  visit  the 
sick  and  sorrowing,  entirely  unconscious  of  the  fact 
that  she  was  a  misfit,  and  that  afflicted  humanity  did 
not  need  her  doleful  presence. 


Q8aBfii<3B 


25 


/ 


When  a  man  gets  home  late 

for  dinner  and  no  appetite,  his  wife 

starts  wondering  what  he 

gave  the  other  woman  for 

luncheon. 


-Jfcr 


I  am  a  socialist  by  nature,  but  not  in  my  politics. 
I  do  not  want  to  have  my  bed,  tooth  and  hair  brushes, 
and  a  lot  of  extras  I  am  fond  of,  especially  my  hus- 
band, owned  in  common,  as  is  taught  by  the  odd  fifty 
varieties  of  socialists. 


k: 


Dirt  is  dirt  anywhere  and  glossed  over  with  ping 
pang,  or  other  essences  sprinkled  on  to  disguise  the 
odors  of  stale  humanity  are  nauseating,  and  do  not 
make  scented  humanity  any  more  alluring  to  the 
average  person.  The  sweet,  clean,  wholesome  smell 
of  a  well  nourished  and  well  bathed  body  needs  no 
aid  of  an  artificial  nature,  and  most  especially  from 
those  perfumes,  having  for  a  basis — and  most  of 
them  have  it — musk,  the  vilest  of  all  vile  odors. 


26  QBecftte'e 


Snowballs  are  all  right  no  matter  how  you 
handle  them,  but  there  are  other  kinds  labeled 
"high"  that  it  is  well  to  be  economical  in  buying. 
After  six  of  them  you  will  not  know  whether  your 
pockets  were  picked  by  yourself  or  by  the  other 
fellow. 


I  try  to  make  my  life  pleasant  and  useful,  too,  by 
cultivating  the  garden  or  the  soil  of  my  own  soul.  I 
nourish  and  cherish  all  the  beautiful  things  I  can 
think  of,  the  places  I  have  seen,  the  exquisite  objects 
in  art  and  in  nature,  and  the  good  that  is  in  my 
friends.  I  try  not  to  think  of  failures,  also  to  have 
no  hates,  no  whims,  no  prejudices.  It  seems  a  sure 
sign  of  poverty  of  intellect  to  always  be  interested  in 
other  people's  business. 


t:~-_  »^.i-i. 


She  was  a  Buddhist  by  inclination.  Buddhism 
the  offspring  of  Brahmanism,  and  the  first  religion 
which  had  the  ambition  to  embrace  all  men,  appealed 
strongly  to  her.  Her  inclinations  were  good  but  she 
hadn't  the  attraction  that  makes  men  want  to  enlist 
and  obey  the  order  "to  arms."  She  looked  like  she 
had  been  left  high  and  dry  through  a  season  of 
drought,  she  was  so  shriveled,  like  an  ear  of  corn, 
she  had  the  frame  but  had  not  filled  out. 


QSaBf  ingB  27 


Be  kind,  be  gracious  to  all,  use  no  .needless 
economy  in  loving.  Love  is  a  spring  that  never ^runs 
dry.  It  is  always  equal  to  the  demands  made  upon 
it. 


Excavations  in  Babylon  have  disclosed  skeletons 
of  men  that  have  13  ribs,  thus  confirming  the  Bible 
story  that  Eve  was  created  out  of  Adam's  extra  rib. 
Modern  man  has  but  12  ribs  as  had  the  skeletons  of 
earliest  times,  until  the  recently  discovered  odd  13 
found.  Man  therefore  was  not  perfect,  not  symme- 
trical until  woman  was  made 


What  does  a  man  care  about  purity?  He  ex- 
pects it  in  his  own  wife  of  course,  because  she  is  his 
own  property,  and  he  believes  in  property  rights. 
But  more  often  than  otherwise  he  devotes  his  life 
after  marriage,  if  not  previous — to  the  pleasure  or 
duty,  as  some  seem  to  make  it  appear — to  investigate 
the  virtue  of  as  many  girls  as  possible.  If  they  were 
in  earnest  regarding  investigations,  if  it  were  for  the 
betterment  of  humanity,  all  would  be  well.  But  I 
have  noticed,  it  is  the  man  with  money  and  one 
seldom  beyond  the  middle  age  that  is  anxious  about 
the  welfare  of  beautiful  and  innocent  young  girls.  On 
that  awful  day  when  the  secrets  of  each  heart  shall 
be  revealed,  how  astounding  will  be  some  revelations. 


28 


(§cc^itB 


She  was  like  Tennyson's  brook 
running  on  forever,  only  she  went 
without  jolt  or  jar,  with  a  supple 
tongue  that  never  flagged  or  fum- 
bled in  commenting  on  her  neigh- 
bors faults  and  foibles,  keenly 
analyzing  pin  cushions,  their  archi- 
tecture and  construction,  the  status 
of  doormats  and  other  equally  im- 
portant furnishings  of  the  houses  of 
her  friends;  finding  flaws  in  every- 
thing. There  was  absolutely  noth- 
ing that  met  her  unqualified  approval. 
Her  home  meant  a  place  to  eat  and  sleep,  but  the 
homes  of  her  neighbors  meant  places  to  criticise. 
In  this  she  was  constant,  in  her  inconsistency.  Like 
the  mole  she  preferred  the  gloom  of  the  earth,  bur- 
rowed in  the  darkness  of  fault  finding,  rather  than 
the  cheerful  sunny  ways,  that  sees  without  seeing, 
and  commented  on  that  which  should  be  sacred  to 
us — our  neighbors'  belongings,  their  manners  and 
their  mode  of  living. 


I  am  not  eager  for  the  heights  or  to  be  exalted 
above  others.  I  do  not  want  to  be  lonely;  I  would 
rather  nestle  down  in  some  quiet  level  with  love  and 
companionship  and  be  at  peace. 


(gasftngs  29 


I  am  not  here  in  the  world  to  try  to  reconstruct 
fools,  I  did  not  create.  I  will  not  try  to  undo  the 
work  of  the  Master,  or  of  chance.  They  are  a  bore 
but  are  useful  by  contrast. 


The  player  of  risque  roles  may  be  a  vestal  virgin 
off  the  stage.  But  in  order  to  play  a  part  well  one 
must  feel  the  emotions  portrayed,  and  if  one  is  thor- 
oughly imbued  with  a  subject  or  a  thought  it  becomes 
a  part  of  one's  self  in  the  end. 


:^a'><t'<.:<-'»/<£i^" '  '-^' 


I  hsten  and  hear  them,  the  yellow  breasted  larks 
filling  the  air  with  their  throaty  joy-music,  telling  me 
that  life  is  for  love  and  sweetness  and  not  for  envy^ 
malice,  sin  and  care.  Happiness  is  worth  all,  and  it 
is  better  to  be 
steeped  in  the  glory  ~^^^^  ^ 
of  it  than  to  seek 
the  gloom  and 
shadows  that  brood 
over  wrong  and 
evil  thoughts  and 
actions. 


30 


(gecftie'B 


A  woman  there  was,  who  being  unsatisfied  with 
Nature's  work,  selected  with  care  some  extra  teeth 
for  adornment.  One  that  seemed  fairer  than  the 
rest,  was  given  a  conspicuous  place.  Alas,  it  proved 
to  be  a  serpent's  tooth,  and  henceforth  the  Founder 
or  selector,  knew  only  the  ways  of  the  serpent;  false- 
hood took  the  place  of  truth.  Honesty,  frankness  and 
true  friendship  were  to  her  as  things  that  are  not. 


And  oh,  the  pity  of  it!  The  heart-hurts  and  stings, 
that  come  when  one  gives  warm  hands  and  heart, 
filled  with  love  and  trust,  to  meet  f rapped  fingers  and 
hearts  in  return.  But  the  morning  glories  lift  up 
their  loving  faces  and  give  their  velvet  lips  to  the 
warmth  of  the  glowing  sun,  to  the  baptism  of  love 
and  sweetness.  Shall  we  not  be  Hke  these,  forgetful 
of  the  stings  of  arrows  that  envy 
sends,  and  be  untouched  by  un- 
sealed mouths  and  the  slime  of 
hissing  tongues. 


u 


^BiirXQti 


31 


Strange  that  a 
man  with  a  past 
written  all  over  his 
face  in  unmistak- 
able lines,  is  always 
searching  for  some 
other  woman,  than 
those  who  helped 
him  willingly  or 
otherwise,  to  make 
his  past.  Is  it  be- 
cause he  does  not 
want  a  reminder 
of  his  follies?  Oris 
it  rather  because 
he  hopes  to  leaven 
his  sullied  soul 
with  the  purity 
and  innocence  of 
his  bride's  un- 
stained body  and 
mind?  It  is  well 
indeed  for  him,  but 
what  of  her?  — 
iron  rusts  and  soot 
blackens. 


32  Qgecftie'B 


The  goddess  of  discord  was  in  evidence  at  her 
birth  she  was  such  a  bundle  of  contrarieties.  Her 
doleful  presence  turned  my  morning  of  joy  into  first 
and  deepest  mourning  at  once,  pared  my  good  humor 
down  to  the  quick  and  left  me  in  a  whirlwind  of 
uncertainty  as  to  what  would  happen  in  a  minute  or 
two,  when  she  attempted  to  outline  my  life  and  de- 
sired it  to  be  patterned  after  hers.  She  had  large 
and  generous  ideas  on  the  subject  of  her  own  infal- 
libility, but  none  on  the  fallibility  of  others.  Suddenly 
light  dawned  upon  my  lamentations  and  turned  them 
into  songs  of  Solomon.  "Go  into  the  fields,"  I  said, 
"study  nature  and — corn.  When  you  find  an  ear 
of  corn  with  an  odd  row  come  to  me,  and  I  will  con- 
sider your  way,  even  though  it  be  a  mJlky  way  of 
moth  balls  and  a  path  unknown  to  ease.  But  by 
that  time  you  will  learn  that  nature  herself  is  fal- 
lible and  makes  mistakes.  I  am  a  child  of  nature 
and  grow  strong  on  the  mistakes  and  uncertainties 
of  life  which  make  it  all  the  more  alluring  to  me." 
I  am  still  singing. — She  has  not  returned. 


N    ^ 


The  good  old  times,  indeed !  Abraham  would 
not  be  recognized  in  society,  bad  as  some  pilots 
would  have  us  believe  it  to  be,  if  he  lived  now  and 
treated  Sarah  as  he  did  the  time  when  the  "begats" 
were  budding. 


^atiiwQB 


33 


Try  always  to  give  cheer- 
fulness the  precedent.  Give 
to  the  morning  a  pleasant 
countenance,  irradiate  your 
home  with  a  bright  smile  and 
as  the  sun  lights  up  the  sleep- 
ing earth,  you  will  find  that 

you,  and  those  within  your  home,  will  respond  to  the 

cheering  effect  of  a  smile. 


It  is  the  unsheltered  woman  who  deserves  the 
tenderness,  the  love  and  protection  of  mankind;  she 
who  battles  against  odds,  who  is  always  against  the 
tide,  who  must  buffet  not  only  the  winds  of  adversity 
but  the  strong  tide  of  human  passions.  She  with  her 
almost  weird  intuition  goes  out  in  the  world  and  wins 
her  way  by  wit  and  wisdom  and  with  a  brain  that 
has  a  knawledge  of  human  valuation,  by  audacity 
and  daring  keeps  her  soul  from  the  seductions  of 
evil  None  the  less  evil  because  it  may  be  veneered 
by  education  and  convention. 


/// y /^ 


/  /  /  /  -' 


34 


QBccfiic's 


Plutarch  was  not  en-' 
thusiastic  over,  or  in  favor 
of  fishing,  and  tell  us  that 
it  is  base,  having  neither 
wit  nor  perspicacity.  I 
agree  with  him  in  this  re- 
spect, that  the  act  of  fish- 
ing may  be  enjoyed  with- 
out a  display  of  wit,  and  is 
one  wherein  wit  does  not 
-u   tw,^^-,,^.  /       concern   the  fish    at    all; 

,f     ,4!^w^->  ?       whether  the  angler  is  witty 

"  "^^-?"-^^  or  grouchy  is  of  small  mo- 

*^'^^'  ment     The   bait  on  the 

hook  requires  a  great  deal  of  perspicacity  in  its 
selection  and  arrangement;  but  when  the  bait  fails  to 
bring  the  slightest  nibble,  when  the  wittiest  angler 
waits  for  hours  with  never  a  twich  of  the  line,  there 
are  times  in  the  lives  of  men  when  a  great  deal  of 
perspicussity  has  been  used. 


Tr^_-3wJ-*--t  - 


Ye  vacillating,  changing  beings,  go  to  nature  tor 
lessons ;  what  volumes  she  can  unfold  on  steadfast- 
ness, strength  and  punctuality — what  an  example  of 
fidelity  may  be  learned  from  that  wonderful  geyser 
"Old  Faithful"  in  Yellowstone  park,  that  sends  glit- 
tering, sparkling  showers  of  water  skyward  every 
sixty  minutes  through  day  time  and  night  time,  ever 
and  ever,  with  unchanging  regularity. 


(^aafwQB 


35 


"  No  one  but  God  and  I  know 
what  is  in  my  heart,"  was  the  song 
or  chant  of  a  boy,  I 
N#\^  heard  in  the  desert. 
A  song,  a  prayer,  a 
—  petition,  or  mayhap  a 
pean  of  joy— who 
~2  knows  ?  Living  close  to 
the  sands,  the  vast,  end- 
less desert  to  the  Arab  youth, 
who  has  nothing  to  hide,  no 
smothered  griefs,  joys  or  sorrows 
to  conceal  from  a  curious  world, 
he  might  well  chant  the  words 
while  he  looks  up  to  the  sky  and 
to  God.  Blessed  human  nomad ! 
living  in  the  bright  light  of  the 
sun,  and  reposing  in  the  yellow 
gleaming  moonlight  shining  on  tawny  sands :  the 
nomad  whom  some  of  us  pity  and  without  cause. 
His  inheritance  is  the  sands,  the  vast  solemnity  of 
the  desert,  the  sky  and  God,  to  whom  he  speaks  in 
confidence— "only  God  and  I  know"— companionship, 
love  and  trust.  He  is  an  outcast,  a  wanderer,  yet 
one  to  be  envied,  not  pitied. 


J6 


(gec§te'0 


I  am  idle  enough  to  become  a 
follower  of  Buddha,  and  find  it  easy 
to  return  thanks  and  prayer  by  the 
use  of  praying  machines.    Prayer- 
7)    mills  turned  by  hand,  wind- 
mills  throwing    out   orisons 
with  the  water  blessing  the 
earth    and    suppliant   alike,    are 
surely  as  well  as  reading  from  a 
printed  formula. 


Fiction:  The  average  report  of  the  beatific  times 
of  the  summer  vacation. 

Folly:  Striving  for  and  wanting  the  things  we 
know  we  cannot  have. 

It  is  rather  curious  that  women  have  been  among 
the  most  masterful  rulers  of  this  great  world  of  ours. 
One  has  but  to  think  of  the  East  and  back  to  Semi- 
ramis.  Theodora,  however,  did  not  rule  alone,  but 
shared  the  honors  with  the  wisest  of  Byzantium 
emperors.  Catherine,  the  great,  and  Elizabeth  of 
England  were  a  few  of  the  brilliant  illustrations. 
And  it  is  worthy  of  notice  that  these  women  were 
not  of  the  upper  strata,  but  strange  as  it  may  seem, 
rose  from  the  lowest  grades,  from  the  hardest  of 
lives,  to  supremacy  and  power. 


(j^&Hn^B 


yi 


He,  the  old 
drone,  was  not 
over-  conscientious 
about  ownership, 
and  in  the  years  of 
not-wasted  oppor- 
tunities, had  appropriated  fruit  from  other 
men's  orchards.  He  was  mindful  of  his 
fast  departing  chances,  and  used  his  arts 
to  abstract  honey  from  the  lips  of  those 
who  trusted  to  his  years  and  to  his  honor. 
He  was  not  a  prohibitionist,  but  like  the 
bee,  became  intoxicated  with  the  sweets 
from  lips  that  were  not  his.  He  was  a 
"bacchanalian  rathskeller"  and  was  self  -  hypnotic, 
growing  dizzy  on  his  imagined  conquests.  He 
thought  very  little  about  the  law  or  of  the  time  when 
the  voice  breathed  over  Eden,  "Thou  shalt  not." 
He,  the  old  derelict,  was  too  busy  recounting  his  real 
or  fancied  experiences  to  listen  to  inaudible  voices. 
There  was  enough  Adam  in  him  to  appropriate  any 
forbidden  fruit  without  coercion  or  instigation,  as  he 
droned  his  useless  way  through  the  mornings,  the 
flowers,  and— Eves  of  life. 


Vacation  Fancies:  Imagining  we  are  having  the 
time  of  our  lives,  trying  to  impress  it  upon  our  friends 
when  we  know  better. 


38 


^asfinQB 


Science  says  that 
the  bat  in  his  wings 
conceals  the  five  fingers 
of  the  human  hand,  and 
that  man  has  his  hands 
developed  from  the 
bat's  wing,  etc.  Is  it  the 
protoplasmic  blood — 
the  return  to  the  primi- 
tive—the paleozoic  times 
that  makes  men  love  to 
go  on  bats  and  enjoy 
most  of  all,  their  noc- 
turnal adventures. 


Might  it  not  be  well  to  try  to  live  in  this  world 
and  enjoy  what  we  can  without  question,  filling  each 
day,  to  finish  the  moment,  to  find  the  journey's 
end  in  every  step  of  the  daily  path,  to  live  the  greatest 
number  of  good  hours  that  need  no  repentance, 
means  happiness  and  is  wisdom.  Knowing  also  that 
what  ever  makes  other's  unhappy  is  wrong  and  what 
we  do  to  make  our  friends  or  the  world  happier  is 
right.  For  they  achieve  most  in  this  world  who  love 
most.    There  is  nothing  more,  nothing  beyond  that. 


CTft 


/ 


If 


^ 


I^onofings 


41 


HEN  I  am  dead  I  do  not  want  moans 
and  cries  that  last  for  the  moment, 
then  all  too  soon  forgotten.  But  let 
the  trees  I  have  loved  wave  over 
me  with  the  bird  notes  amid  the 
leaves  and  a  flower  or  two  spring 
from  the  soil — that  will  be  enough. 


I  feel  at  times  as  I  did  in  my  first  experience  on 
one  of  those  movable  stairways,  where  one  steps  on 
a  sort  of  incline  and  is  lifted  or  rolled  up  to  the  next 
floor,  wondering  when  the  top  is  reached  how  one 
would  step  off.  At  the  top  a  helping  hand  was  there 
to  steady  me  as  I  slid  off  easily  and  safely.  Just  so 
we  are  slipping  along  in  this  dear  world  of  ours  and 
some  time,  when  or  how  we  know  not,  the  ultimate 
verge  will  be  reached,  and  we  will  slide  off  into  the 
great  unknown  region,  hoping  and  trusting  that  the 
Father's  hand  will  reach  us  and  hold  us  forever 
more. 


t'aii»ro!iii)UOTa>iitL)j»y2fljAwg»^wa).!.<.»i 


4'2  Qgecftie'fi 


And  again  I  heard  or  dreamed  "The  soul  of 
music  is  to  have  grieved."  If  so,  surely  my  life,  my 
soul,  should  be  one  grand,  sweet  song.  Too  well  I 
know  the  day  when  the  rosy,  blushing  dawn  was  full 
of  hope,  happiness  and  love.  The  sunset  that  died 
in  gloom  was  the  death  of  hope  and  left  me  to  won- 
der and  try  to  forget.  I've  loitered  where  the  Nile 
murmurs  of  the  false  and  forgotten  gods.  I  have 
seen  the  stars  flame  above  the  Place  of  the  Tombs, 
where  in  the  silence  of  ages  rest  the  forgotten  ashes 
of  those  who  knew  Him,  have  walked  the  via  crucis 
and  stood  in  the  quiet  of  the  mystic  old  garden  where 
Christ  suffered  the  agony  of  betrayal.  Yet  I  could 
not  forget  the  injustice  of  a  hard  and  cruel  fate.  It 
has  been  said  that  a  robin  plucked  a  thorn  from 
Christ's  temple  while  he  toiled  toward  Calvary,  and  a 
drop  of  blood  falling  on  the  robin's  breast  turned  it 
red.  If  the  thorn  of  memory  could  only  be  plucked 
from  my  weary  senses  and  buried  with  no  possible 
resurrection,  then  might  I  rest  and  forget. 


When  we  have  passed  through  the  grand  en- 
trance of  eternity,  where  the  sins  of  the  false  and 
untrue  cannot  enter,  and  on  our  rapt  vision  gleams 
the  glistening  garniture  of  God's  realm,  when  we 
have  escaped  from  the  iron  gyves  that  bound  and 
crushed  us  to  earth,  when  we  are  beyond  the  utter- 
most verge,  and  the  soul  is  blessed  by  the  effulgence 
of  eternal  love,  and  the  blazing  glory  of  realized 
Hope,  then,  indeed  will  we  know  the  meaning  of 
Infinite  Mercy. 


l^onstngB  4} 


I  believe  in  kindness,  in  cheerfulness,  in 
good  food  and  the  gospel  of  generosity.  I  be- 
lieve in  liberty  of  thought,  action  and  love. 
Now  I  am  nearing  the  shore  where  strife  is 
unknown  and  the  troubled  waves  of  life  die 
away.  I  want  only  happiness,  love  and  affec- 
tion. Hearts  of  dust  cannot  ache,  no  hurt  can 
reach  them.  The  dead  do  not  feel,  do  not 
suffer. 


I  seem  in  some  way  to  realize  the  effect 
moonlight  has  upon  animals  as  well  as  on  our- 
selves, for  when  I  see  the  moon  rising,  a  full 
glorious  orb,  it  seems  to  set  my  mouth  quiver- 
ing, like  the  jaws  of  the  chained  dog.  I  always 
have  an  infinite  pity  for  the  brute.  I  seem  to 
feel  something  of  his  condition.  Chained,  bound 
by  circumstances,  I  have  never  been  able  to  en- 
joy the  things  I  most  cared  for.  Perhaps  it  is 
the  beast  in  me,  or  the  human  in  the  dog.  I  care 
not  which  it  is,  I  know  he  feels  his  chain,  for  I 
know  how  I  have  often  felt.  I  would  have 
given  anything  to  get  away,  out  of  the  crowds, 
away  from  my  friends,  well  as  I  love  them,  and 
go  out  and  away  to  strange  isolated  places  where 
in  the  moonlight  I  might  howl — only  I  should 
have  yelped  for  joy.  And  yet  the  dog's  howl 
doesn't  seem  to  be  one  of  thankfulness. 


4f  (gu^itB 


She  has  time  enough  now  to  mourn  her 
lost  opportunities.  Earlier,  she  had  lost  much 
because  she  feared  the  consequences.  Now  her 
constant  thought  is  that  there  are  to  be  no 
more  chances  for  her.  Opportunity  once 
slighted  forgets  to  return. 

^....^.^^ ^.... 

The  unsolvable  question,  the  why,  comes 
into  one's  soul,  when  we  think  that  the  religions 
of  this  world  are  all  a-tangle ;  and  who  shall  say 
which  one  is  right  or  which  one  is  wrong.  Blood 
from  beasts  was  offered  in  biblical  times,  the 
pagans  slew  and  offered  up  human  beings  to 
appease  their  gods.  Always  blood,  and  the 
sacrifice  of  life  to  appease  a  kind  and  just  God! 
And  we  now — if  orthodox,  must  partake  of  the 
sacramental  wine — take  and  drink  it  as  repre- 
sentative of  the  blood  of  Christ.  Oh,  the  ab- 
surdity of  it,  a  God  of  love  to  be  bought  in  a  re- 
volting manner.  The  eternal  why,  comes  surg- 
ing into  my  mind  in  the  vain  endeavor  to  solve 
the  question,  to  arrive  at  some  tangible  conclu- 
sion. But  ever  and  forever  there  is  the  same 
circle  of  reasoning,  nothing  definite  or  certain 
to  cling  to,  only  the  spirit's  pitiful  yearning  and 
hoping  for  something  it  might  know  and  hold 
beyond  all  doubt — the  surety  of  future  peace 
and  happiness. 


|^onstn0S 


45 


In  spirit  I  am  fleeing  with 
Cho  Clio  San,  who  went  with  her 
baby  *' Trouble '^  from  the  deso- 
late house  on  Higashi  Hill,  where 
she  was  to  have  had  a  honey- 
moon of  999  years.  Dear  God, 
how  many  of  us  would  flee  with 
our  burden  of  trouble  if  we 
could;  who  have  unwritten  heart 
histories  that,  like  hers,  might 
touch  the  soul  of  the  great,  busy 
world  if  they  were  known  I 


Once  I  dreamed — or  did  I  hear  a  voice 
whisper?  If  I  could  only  bury  my  sorrows,  as 
we  bury  our  dead,  where  we  can  go  for  an  hour 
now  and  then,  and  scatter  a  few  flowers  with 
tenderest  thoughts,  pausing  a  moment  to  re- 
member, and  to  love  in  the  hurry  of  life.  The 
hurt,  the  pain,  that  comes  when  the  grave  is 
closed  over  the  lost,  is  softened  and  healed  by 
time;  but  my  grief  is  a  living  thing  ever  pres- 
ent— taunting,  sneering,  daring  me  to  forget 
whether  waking  or  sleeping.  For  in  my  sleep 
the  weight  and  oppression  of  the  burden  I  must 
bear  is  ever  with  me. 


46  (gecftie'fi 


I  said  in  my  soul,  I  am  weary  of  seeing 
The  walls  of  my  room  and  the  dun  colored 

ceiling. 
Within  me  a  force  is  pleading,  urging,  entreat- 
ing. 
Like  the  sap  in  the  trees  my  pulse  is  rioting, 

beating. 
My  heart   crieth   out   for   the   fields   and   the 

grasses. 
For    skyland   and    cloudland   and    wind-swept 

passes. 
I  yearn  for  the  wilds,  the  uplands  and  hills; 
For  the  fragrance  of  flowers,  and  bird  note 

that  thrills. 
For  a  heaven-sent  hour  of  comfort  and  rest, 
Of  peace  without   telling,   on   mother   earth's 

breast. 

I  am  sending  thoughts  and  unspoken  mes- 
sages to  you  across  the  big  hills  and  the  far- 
reaching  plains,  while  listening  to  music  that 
has  a  bit  of  pathos,  a  touch  of  sweetness  and 
tears  also  in  it;  music,  that  tangles  my  heart 
strings  in  its  chords  and  makes  the  eyes  sting 
with  unbidden  tears,  shaking  off  for  the  mo- 
ment the  follies,  the  fashions,  and  worn-out 
faith  of  men,  and  reveling  in  a  clearer  vision — 
childhood's  vision — and  faith  in  God  again. 


B^ongingB  47 


I  want  an  open-air  religion,  such  a  one  as 
Jesus  founded,  not  one  of  Tabernacles  and 
Temples.  Such  a  one  as  would  inspire  some- 
thing of  a  feeling  as  do  those  two,  the  greatest 
ever  written  in  the  open  air — the  Ten  Com- 
mandments and  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount. 
The  world  in  Christ  *s  time  did  not  need  any- 
more of  a  portable  religion  than  it  does  now. 
Like  Paul  in  Damascus,  the  scales  have  fallen 
from  my  eyes  and  I  see,  as  I  never  saw  before, 
the  sordidness  and  selfishness  of  the  people  of 
the  churches. 


There  are  hours  that  come  to  me,  that  are 
dear  in  the  returning;  hours  when  I  nestled  in 
the  cushions  of  a  caique  and  skimmed  the  waters 
of  the  Golden  Horn,  and  breathed  blessings 
upon  the  Mohammedan  who  long  ago  rejected 
the  clanging,  jarring  bells.  I  glided  over  the 
quiet  waters  and  listened  to  the  Immaum  from 
the  towers  of  the  mosques  calling  out  **God  is 
good,'*  *^ Prayer  is  better  than  sleep,"  that 
came  faintly,  but  was  sweeter  than  the  sound 
of  bells.  So  I  heard  them  in  Constantinople,  in 
Spain,  in  Syria,  in  Palestine  and  in  Egypt. 
The  call  ever  the  same,  to  which  180,000,000 
beings  respond,  and  lift  their  hearts  in  prayer 
to  heaven. 


(gecftie'e 


May  the  sunshine  of  prosperity  and  the 
moonbeams  of  peace  ever  light  thy  tranquil 
way. 


Keep  not  your  kisses,  your  flowers  and  your 
words  of  love  and  kindness  for  me  until  I  am 
dead.  I  will  not  care  then,  or  need  them  but — 
I  do  now. 


/-'^»'»»^x'<^•■»»l«»Xi^y 


The  gyves  and  fetters  of  conventionality 
cannot  entirely  repress  the  old  feeling  of  un- 
rest that  is  our  heritage.  A  strain  in  the 
blood,  a  quickening  of  dormant  faculties,  that 
in  some  of  us  may  have  slept  for  generations, 
awake  and  the  restlessness  of  dust-blown  an- 
cestors comes  from  the  centuries  gone  by. 
There  comes  a  sudden  call,  a  yearning  for  the 
freedom  of  an  untrammeled  life,  a  life  of 
wandering,  of  days  in  the  wild  woods,  and 
nights  spent  in  the  open  under  the  moon  and 
stars.  We  feel  the  thrill  in  our  veins  and 
find  our  ears  listening  for  voices  or  sounds 
that  seem  to  come  confused  but  fraught  with 
unformulated  melody,  yet  in  some  mysterious 
way  calling  for  us  to  come.  The  call  of  the 
uncivilized  to  be  up  and  away  from  the  world 
of  work  and  worry;  that  is  our  heritage. 


^ongin^B 


^9 


I  do  not  want  to  spend  my  life  in  a  pas- 
sionate devotion  to  an  ideal,  a  memory,  if  I 
know  beyond  all  doubt  it  is  not  worthy.  Yet 
I  only,  of  all  the  world,  know  there  is  a  monu- 
ment hidden  away,  and  a  space  thereon  where 
I  may  be  able  some  day  to  write  resignation — 
but  not  yet,  not  yet. 


50 


l^on^ngs 


Pour  the  "wine 

of    wisdom"  into 

my  thirsty  soul 

and  give  me  words 

of  peace  and  cheer 

that  will  fall  softly 

like    the    evening 

dew.    So  I  may  be  lulled 

to  sleep  and  forgetfulness; 

heaven's  best  sent  boon  to 

one  who  suffers  from  the 

world's  injustice. 


.^ 


Earth  is  so  empty  now;  but  there 
are  more  stars,  more  soul  places  and 
worlds  above,  making  heaven  nearer 
and  dearer  to  me. 


;^ 


The  music  of  falling  waters,  of  wind  among 
the  pines  and  of  all  the  myriad  sounds  of  bird  and 
animal  life,  mixed  and  interwoven  in  unimaginable 
sadness  and  longing,  grips  the  heart  and  hurts  like 
the  holding  out  of  ones  empty  arms  for  an  absent 
loved  one  in  the  hopeless  distance. 


TTfCTfyM 


(geffeciionB  53 


**I  am  growing  old/'  she  said  quietly; 
^^the  thought  forces  itself  upon  me  often, 
when  the  twilight  comes  calm  and  solemn 
across  the  mesas,  after  the  brightness  of  day. 
I  have  passed  the  time  when  the  future  held 
hopes,  and  am  living  in  the  past,  in  dreams  of 
what  has  been.  But  while  I  wait  in  the 
calm  of  life's  sunset,  I  see  it  more  glorious, 
bigger  and  brighter  through  the  vapors  of 
earth  thoughts  and  sweeter  in  the  setting.  I 
shall  not  fret  or  repine — I  have  at  least  lived ! ' ' 


The  old  warcry  in  the  misty  beginnings 
that  fired  the  hearts  of  the  war-like  men  ^^pro 
aris  et  focis'' — for  the  altars  and  the  hearths 
— must  now  be  changed;  for  our  altars  and 
our  hearths,  too,  will  soon  be  myths;  in  this 
age  of  electricity,  caloric  inventions,  and  wor- 
ship as  we  wheel  or  fly  through  this  life  of 
ours. 

Life — what  is  it  but  this,  the  glad  laugh- 
ter and  chatter  of  irresponsible  youth  and  the 
mumblings  of  the  old  who  talk  and  write  of 
the  past,  of  its  delights,  its  sweetness,  its  van- 
ished youth  and  summer  time ;  of  life,  with 
hand  and  tongue  trembling  with  age  and  in- 
firmity ? 


54  (j^^U'B 


What  is  life  but  a  game  of  cross-purposes, 
where  we  wander  with  blinders  fate  places 
upon  our  eyes?  If  we  are  not  able  to  remove 
them  or  see  the  web  that  crosses  and  trips  us 
in  our  efforts  to  progress,  faltering  humanity 
should  not  be  blamed  overmuch. 


Do  not  ask  me  to  solve  problems — I  was 
never  over  bright  at  mathematics;  you  may 
solve  examples  by  the  rule  of  three  or  com- 
pute logarithms  by  subtraction.  I  do  not 
worry  over  addition  or  subtraction,  nor  X, 
that  represents  an  unknown  quantity.  I  am 
not  moaning  or  worrying  over  the  impossible, 
or  the  unknown  quantities.  I  only  know  that 
I  used  to  look  up  to  the  great,  fleecy  clouds, 
and  stand  on  tip  toe  trying  to  reach  them.  It 
took  me  some  years  to  learn  that  I  could  not 
grasp  or  solve  them.  I  did  not  know  they 
melted  away.  I  thought  God  drew  them  up 
through  the  blue  and  wrapped  them  around 
His  throne.  I  haven't  been  able  in  the  years 
that  brought  the  bare,  bald  facts  of  knowledge 
and  wisdom,  to  quite  forget.  Kather  I  wish 
the  problem  had  never  been  solved.  I  prefer 
my  childish  beliefs,  for  sometimes  wisdom 
means  a  world  of  pain  and  disappointment. 


(KeffecfionB 


55 


Tasmania,  the  land 
^  of  lots  of  time  —  ship 
me  there,  where  there 
is  time  and  to  spare 
for  all  the  dear  delights 
of  life,  for  the  joys 
of  true  friendship  and 
love.  There  would  be 
little  tastes  of  heaven 
as  we  went  along, 
whether  the  paths  were 
straight  or  crooked. 
Straight  paths  are  all  right,  but  it  seems  suc- 
cess comes  quicker  to  those  who  find  the  curves 
in  our  land.  In  Tassie-land  it  would  not  mat- 
ter, there  would  be  time  for  all. 


She  was  of  uncertain  age,  this  decayed 
virgin,  this  Venus  of  the  cemetery.  She  was 
a  perfect  tangle  of  oddities.  Luck  made  all 
the  difference  between  vice  and  virtue  with 
her.  She  had  never  known  true  passion,  the 
true  poetry  of  the  heart.  She  had  never 
looked  upon  the  face  of  temptation,  nor  known 
the  joy  of  yielding.  She,  like  the  Prophet  on 
the  Mount,  had  always  been  upon  the  mount, 
with  the  garden  of  love  at  her  feet,  yet  without 
opportunity  to  enter  it. 


56  (gecftte'B 


There  is  never  a  pitfall  in  the  path  of 
duty;  but,  heaven  help  me,  how  steep  is  the 
path  and  how  great  is  my  burden! 

I  see  the  beauty  of  the  flowers  and  of  the 
sea  shells  and  enjoy  them  without  being 
troubled  about  the  syllabled  botanical  or  con- 
chological  names.  They  are  like  the  clairvoy- 
ant phenomena,  the  aura  of  saints  and  sinners, 
and  this  astral  plane,  the  unguessed,  the  illu- 
sive, that  interest  us  in  the  Karma.  There  is 
a  weird  fascination  in  reincarnation;  but  is  it 
worth  while? 


Few  of  us  hew  paths  along  lifers  journey 
that  are  not  obliterated  as  soon  as  our  days 
are  ended,  for  in  the  effort  each  one  makes  in 
clearing  his  own  way  there  is  little  time  left 
for  helping  others  or  broadening  the  trail  as 
we  proceed.  If  we  cared  less  for  self  and  more 
for  our  kind,  as  the  years  go  by,  we  would 
find  the  path  broader  for  the  stepping  aside 
and  larger  with  happiness  and  contentment. 
The  efforts  might  seem  futile  to  us,  but  some 
one  would  remember  with  a  heart  full  of  love 
and  kindness,  and  perchance  follow  on  in  the 
path  we  blazed. 


(KeffecfiottB  57 


My  fair,  sweet  kingdom  of  love  is  threat- 
ened and  I  am  haunted  by  fear  that  I  shall 
never  rule  in  peace,  in  happiness.  For  I  know 
that  while  I  have  enough  of  the  world's  good 
things — what  it  calls  good — I  am  paupered 
with  those  my  heart  desires. 

Music — is  it  hitting  ivory  keys  or  pulling 
a  few  strands  of  horsehair  across  the  taut 
intestines  of  a  quadruped!  Whatever  the 
means,  we  know  that  music,  however  grand  or 
simple,  is  full  of  fugitive,  forgotten  things, 
that  seem  to  be  echoes  from  a  vague  and  un- 
certain past,  a  past  of  which  no  memory  re- 
mains, but  comes  from  instinct  or  reflex  action 
— the  earliest  form  of  memory. 

John,  on  the  bleak  island  of  Patmos,  hun- 
gry and  thirsty,  said:  ^^They  shall  hunger  no 
more  and  also  they  shall  thirst  no  more.'* 
Blessed  assurance!  In  the  white  light  of  the 
throne  and  the  splendor  surrounding  it,  that 
is  indeed  as  a  *^sea  of  glass  mingled  with 
fire*' — in  the  opal-tinted  atmosphere  of  peace 
and  of  love.  You,  my  loved  ones,  have  indeed 
passed  into  eternal  joy,  where  hunger,  thirst, 
heart-aches  and  loneliness  can  never  hurt. 


58  (KeffecfionB 


And  though  youth  is  past,  she  mused,  the 
attendant  dreams  and  follies  are  as  dear  to 
me  as  they  were  before  tens  were  doubled  and 
twenty  was  written  twice  over.  Love  has 
come  very  late  in  life  with  me,  but,  like  heaven, 
is  worth  all  else  and  is  more  than  all  of  life 
to  me. 


The  loss  of  illusions  is  death  to  our  souls, 
therefore  keep  your  illusions — and  help  others 
to  retain  theirs;  let  them  feel  the  sweet  illu- 
sions of  love,  of  friendship,  kindly  regard, 
and  hope  with  its  shining,  glittering  wings. 
Keep  these  ever  in  sight  for  yourself  and  for 
others,  if  in  your  power,  and  in  the  end  you 
may  render  unto  God  a  soul  still  full  of  illu- 
sions. 

The  microbe  of  light,  the  glow  of  the  fire- 
fly, is  caused  by  a  germ,  so  scientists  say;  but 
God  gave  another  light,  microbe  or  germ,  as 
you  please.  The  love-light  seen  in  the  eyes, 
the  imquenchable  light  in  their  depths,  that 
can  only  be  kindled  by  love,  that  only  love 
can  see  and  understand,  proves  it  the  gift  of 
God.  And  that  spark  or  germ  raises  humanity 
itself  above  all  other  created  things. 


(gtemorieB 


61 


A  DERELICT 

An  old  man  stepped 
gingerly  along,  carrying  his 
cane  much  as  if  he  were  car- 
rying a  gun.  He  was  old, 
stooped,  and  the  sun  of 
many  dry  California  sum- 
mers had  shriveled  his 
frame  and  warped  his  face 
until  the  skin  lay  in  folds 
over  the  eyes  and  on  his 
cheeks.  The  rhythm  of 
steps  came  to  his  dull  ears, 
scarcely  noticed,  until  the 
sharp  cry,  *  *  Present  arms ! ' ' 
rang  out  clear  and  distinct. 
Instantly  his  shoulders 
straightened  and  his  chin  raised,  and  the  cane 
came  to  position.  Forgotten  were  the  sur- 
roundings, his  age  and  condition.  Again  he 
was  upon  the  Eappahannock  and  he  was  in  the 
ranks,  rushing  on  to  victory,  his  face  trans- 
figured. I  never  saw  a  song  personified  until 
then.  *^ Glory,  glory,  hallelujah!''  was  written 
all  over  his  face.  The  music  ceased  and  the 
boys  went  marching  on,  and  then  silence,  and 
he  was  left,  he  and  his  dead  past.  A  low, 
tremulous  sigh  —  something  more,  almost  a 
moan — came  as  he  sank  gently  to  the  ground; 
and  he  went  to  *^ present  arms''  to  the  great 


62  (^tcftie'fi 


white  throne,  and  the  ^^  glory,  glory,  hallelu- 
jah!^' had  scarcely  ceased  before  he  heard  the 
echo  in  his  Master's  house,  wherein  wars  and 
strife  do  not  enter. 


PALESTINE 

My  pillows  were  not  of  down,  but  they 
were  stuffed  with  dreams.  Beautiful  and  en- 
trancing dreams  and  visions  were  mine,  for  in 
them  I  am  wandering.  Once  again  I  am  view- 
ing the  plains  of  Esdraelon,  and  I  see  the  vivid 
red  anemones,  suggestive  of  the  battle  when 
the  blood  splashes  were  bright,  even  as  are 
the  flowers  amid  the  green  grasses.  Again  I 
visit  the  Valley  of  Ajalon,  where  astronomy 
halted  and  the  night  delayed  to  come,  and  I 
see  a  glory  that  is  almost  supernatural  in  its 
radiance,  with  the  sun  breaking  through  misted 
clouds  and  a  rainbow  spanning  a  third  part  of 
the  heavens  and  that  radiant  bridge,  a  gleam- 
ing, gorgeous  curve  of  beauty,  peace  and  har- 
mony, was  arched  above  a  peaceful  world. 
Gone  were  the  sounds  of  battle  and  warring 
hosts,  forgotten  were  the  strife  of  warlike 
kings;  but  on  this  beautiful  arch  it  seemed  as 
if  the  worn  and  weary  might  enter  into  peace 
and  life  for  evermore. 


(JUemorieB  63 


MEMORIES  OF  JERUSALEM 

Bethlehem,  Bethany  and  Jericho,  what 
memories  crowd  the  brain!  But  dearer  than 
all  are  the  recollections  of  the  Holy  City,  Jeru- 
salem, older  than  Athens,  Thebes,  or  Rome. 
Her  streets,  her  temples,  once  were  the  joy  of 
the  whole  world!  At  her  portals  the  army  of 
Crusaders  wept,  thinking  themselves  not 
worthy  to  see  her  glory.  Dear  in  her  desola- 
tion even  now,  are  the  stone  houses,  Saracenic 
in  style,  destitute  of  comfort,  no  windows,  no 
gardens,  and  many  of  the  narrow  streets  are 
without  drainage.  There  are  no  lamps,  no 
sidewalks  or  comforts  of  other  cities.  And 
where  the  sweet  gliding  Kedron  once  rippled 
along  is  now  a  dry  ravine  filled  with  stones. 
Much  of  the  city  of  the  Bible  is  covered  with 
filth,  and  the  accumulation  of  the  dirt  of  ages. 
Yet  one  that  has  seen,  no  matter  how  far  he 
may  have  wandered,  can  ever  forget  the  city 
of  David.  What  painfully  sweet  memories 
come  to  me,  the  dim  light  on  Calvary,  Olivet, 
Gethsemane!  A  life  may  be  lived  here  in  a 
day,  for  more  can  be  seen  and  crowded  into 
one's  mind  than  in  numberless  years  spent 
elsewhere. 


64 


(gecftie'fi 


In  fancy,  I  am 
again  in  the  land 
of  the  fellaheen,  of 
red  f  e  z  z  e  s  and 
white  turbans, 
amid  the  Oriental 
splendor  of  the 
land  of  Rameses, 
of  Caesar  and 
Cleopatra  —  from 
the  unrest  of  civili- 
zation to  the  haunts 
of  the  Bedouins. 
A  breath  of  over- 
powering sweet- 
ness  comes  to  me 
from  the  Esbeki- 
yeh  gardens 
Cairo.  I  see  the  sunset  from  the  citadel,  and 
see,  too,  the  violet  shadows  creep  over  the  yel- 
low Libyan  sands  and  brood  over  the  desert  of 
the  Pyramids,  of  the  Rameses  and  the  Nile. 
Again  I  watch  in  reverent  mind  the  faithful 
at  prayers,  with  forehead  touching  the  earth, 
so  earnest  in  their  petitions  they  seem  to  touch 
the  garment  of  faith.  ^^Allah-il- Allah!'*  What 
are  our  half-hearted,  half-ashamed  attempts  at 
prayer  to  these  who  humble  themselves  to  the 
earth,  even  as  if  they  were  a  part  of  God's 
footstool?  They  seem  proud  of  their  belief 
and  confident  in  their  right  to  call  upon  Allah 
as  their  very  own. 


(jnemories 


65 


In  the  twilight  at  Edf  ou,  _  _  ^ 
with  the  sky  at  sunset  like^^^^ 
burnished  metal,  and  in  bold  " 
relief  on  the  river's  brink,  I 
saw  a  solitary  camel  with 
foot  doubled  back  and  a  strap  slipped  over  the 
knee  in  the  merciless  way  they  have  of  hob- 
bling them.  The  camel  moaned  and  with  lifted 
head  its  eyes  looked  over  the  distant  sands. 
In  its  moan  was  a  world  of  grief  and  impotent 
rage  that  expressed  helplessness  and  revolt 
at  its  slavery  and  bondage.  Near  the  beast, 
a  gaunt  figure  in  a  long,  black  robe  stood 
silent  and  motionless,  yet  sharply  defined  in 
the  yellow  afterglow.  There  was  something 
in  the  scene,  in  the  attitude  of  man  and  beast, 
in  the  silent,  slow-moving  Nile,  in  the  mystery 
of  the  place,  the  desolate  temples,  that  filled 
me  with  a  sadness  that  oppressed  and  hurt. 


r  /  /  /  / 


^  /  /  /  /  / 


I  c  / 


66 


^U&itB 


How  memories  re- 
turn of   Egypt   and 
the  Nile,  of  Arabs  and 
Persians!  The  fascin- 
ation of  the  turban 
and  the  charm  of  the 
rouband  veil,  the  mys- 
tery of  the  chaddar- 
cloak,  of  the  Orient 
are  as  alluring  and  as 
interesting  as  are  the 
temples  and  statues, 
the  statues  that  ex- 
press  the   idea   of 
silence  in  a  wonder- 
ful degree.    Who   ever  associated  aught  but 
silence  with  that  grand  recumbent  figure  of  the 
Sphinx?    There  is  something  solemn,  almost 
appalling  in  the  hopeless  silence,  in  the  attitude 
that  never,  I  fancy,  in  its  first  newness,  gave 
one  the  idea  of  anything  savoring  of  human, 
but    rather    god-like,    representing   strength, 
grandeur  and  unquestionable  power.    There  is 
a  pathos  in  this  and  other  monuments  that  stirs 
one's  heart  to  a  vague,  indefinable  feeling,  a 
mixture  of  admiration  and  pity  for  the  loneliness 
of  the  Sphinx  and  Memnon  sitting  in  desolate 
majesty,  with  the  desert  silent  and  awful  about 
and  around  them. 


(JUemotieB  67 


AN  ITALIAN   SUNSET 

The  peasants  among  the  vineyards  were 
singing  tender  love  songs  as  they  toiled;  there 
were  shrines  of  the  Madonna  in  villages  upon 
the  hillsides  above  the  Roman  Campagna;  and 
vine-entangled  towers,  radiant  in  the  setting 
sun,  showed  here  and  there.  A  drowsy  hum 
of  falling  waters,  a  hum  of  insects,  and  the 
soft  twittering  of  birds  were  mixed  and  inter- 
mingled with  deeper  tones  from  far-away  bells. 
Confused,  rumbling,  inexplicable  sounds,  like 
the  strains  from  the  music  of  chaos,  reached 
me  as  I  sat,  on  an  opal- tin  ted  afternoon,  on  the 
heights  above  Tivoli,  and  looked  down  upon 
the  gnarled  old  olive  trees.  As  in  a  dream  I 
saw  the  places  where  Cassius  and  Brutus  once 
lived,  and  further  down  a  flock  of  doves  en- 
circled the  place  where  Palmyra  *s  queen,  Zeno- 
bia,  dwelt.  No  voice  comes  from  the  Sybil's 
Temple,  no  prophecies  as  of  old  tell  of  the 
past  or  what  the  future  may  have  in  store.  A 
mystic,  pathetic  charm,  restful  and  soothing  as 
it  is  enthralling,  takes  possession  of  me  as  I 
gaze  down  on  these  remnants  of  ages  gone  by, 
shrouded  in  gray,  the  color  of  antiquity,  a 
gray  we  love  in  nature,  mixed  with  green,  the 
color  of  hope — death  in  life,  life  in  death. 
The  sun  has  gone,  the  night  is  chill,  there  is 
only  an  etching  framed  in  blue-gray  hills. 


68 


(§u^icB 


The  sacred  viol     J 
of  my  wrath  was 

tuned  up  when  the    _^  t-'U 

jarring  discords  ^Ttf^i-Jfr 
began  that  drove  -^^^ ' 
away  all  the  faint, 
sweet,  entrancing 
sounds  of  the 
night.  But  when  I 
knew,  there  was 
no  wrath,  only  a 
great  pity  in  my  heart  as  I  saw  his  trembling 
hand  guide  the  bow  over  the  strings  of  the 
old  violin  and  knew  that  the  fearful  sounds 
that  made  me  hate  the  groaning,  moaning 
thing  were  heavenly  to  him.  The  faded  blue 
eyes  lit  up,  the  old,  time-warped  creature 
playing  for  a  few  soldi,  forgot  for  the  mo- 
ment the  bread  and  wine  he  needed,  and  he 
was  transformed,  etherealized  by  his  efforts. 
A  glass  or  two  of  wine,  the  wine  of  his  youth 
and  manhood,  which  I  gladly  gave,  seemed  to 
put  new  sap  into  his  trembling  limbs.  I  for- 
got the  discords  in  my  pity;  for  I  knew  he  was 
near  the  border  where  discords  and  jarring 
notes  will  not  intrude. 


(JJlemorieB  69 


ARIZONA 

The  lambent  summer  lightning  on  the 
western  horizon  flashed  fitfully  across  the  riven 
ribbons  of  clouds  illuminating  the  dark  threads 
through  which  the  evening  stars  were  peeping; 
nearer  were  ochre-tinted  foothills,  and  from 
these  stretched  the  desert  of  alkali,  glistening 
like  fields  of  frozen  sleet;  while  the  horizon 
swam  and  quivered  in  weird  desolation  be- 
yond me.  Beautiful  will-o'-the-wisp  scenes, 
mirage  effects,  with  phantom-like  semblance  of 
lakes  and  rivers,  were  alluring,  enticing,  beck- 
oning the  inexperienced  to  its  desolate,  wind- 
swept places,  where  the  whirling,  circling  sand 
devils  choke  and  blind  those  who  dare  enter 
their  domain;  where  they  hold  sway,  covering 
and  uncovering,  in  fiendish  glee,  the  graves  of 
the  earth-worn  and  weary,  who  followed  the 
illusive  atmospheric  influences,  the  miracles 
of  climatic  glory  that  danced  before  them  and 
over  the  barren  mesas  encantadas,  until  they 
who  sleep  here  found  heaven's  sweetest  boon, 
— rest. 


*  *  Beatisima  hora. ' '  It  seems  as  if  a  brook 
had  been  rippling  at  my  side  all  through  the 
enchanted  day  and  the  god  Pan  or  some  myth- 
ical body  had  filled  all  the  reeds  with  music. 


TO 


(gecftie'B 


I't^  ^ HERE  is   only  an  empty  nest; 

[I  I  last  yearns  birds  have  builded 
elsewhere.  So  love  is  wayward, 
something  new  and  interesting 
is  desirable  and  forgetting  is 
so  easy.  I  cannot  tell  you  of  the 
sweetest  remembrances  of  my 
life  wherein  there  is  no  forget- 
ting. I  am  enjoying  the  sham, 
the  show,  the  parade  of  life  as 
best  I  can.  But  I  know  too  well 
how  different  all  might  be. 


-_•>*:.  J- c!"* 


Some  old  things  are  precious  and  I  keep 
them  locked  away  from  all  the  world  of  bur- 
glarious friends  who  would  be  keen  for  the 
struggle  to  find  them  did  they  know  where  the 
quarry  was  hidden.  The  accumulated  emo- 
tions, experiences,  ideals  and  idols,  I  have. 
The  ideals,  the  illusions,  I  would  keep;  the 
false  and  untrue  have  served  their  time.  But 
the  columbaria  of  memory  must  keep  and  hold 
its  own.    There  is  no  forgetting! 


(JPemoneB 


n 


I       '1 


Let's  drink  to  fun  and  wit  and  laughter, 
To  fair  days  and  dark  days, 

And  to  all  that  come  after. 
May  your  eyes  be  bright 

And  your  heart  keep  young, 
And  the  fountain  of  youth 

Be  lapped  by  each  tongue, 
With  never  a  care  and  never  a  sorrow 
To  dim  the  brightness  of  each  tomorrow. 


72 


(JVlemorieB 


IDNIGHT  mass  in  St.  John  in 
Latern  Kome,  where  in  the 
pain  of  solitude,  asphyxiation 
of  the  heart,  torture  of  loneli- 
ness unrelieved  save  by  the 
moons  of  remembrance,  I 
thought  of  you,  and  told  my 
beads,  the  beads  of  love  and 
memory. 


QJtebifaftonB 


75 


So    will    I    drift    on    and    on, 
quietly,  maybe,  like  the  lilies;  see 
how  they  rest  and  sleep  when  the 
day  is  done.     The  mists  fall  like  a 
gray  veil  closer,  nearer,  and  silence, 
"*  the  silence  of  the  great  here- 
inafter, rests  upon  the  wearied 
?sr-  senses.     The  river  is  near- 
ing  the  sea,  the  lilies  sway 
gently,  the  leaves  drift,  and 
I,  too,  go  on  and  on,  it  may 
be,  I   trust  and  hope,  into 
God's  own  peaceful  harbor. 


I  dip  my  pen  in  the  inkwell  of  truth,  and 
fain  would  write  all  my  heart  wishes,  yet  fear 
to  pall  on  your  time  and  patience.  Yet  where- 
fore should  one  have  friends  unless  it  be  that 
time  is  not  counted,  and  patience  cultivated! 
Friendship  costs  more  than  anything  else  in 
this  world  of  ours,  and  yet  it  is  worth  it!  A 
seed  from  its  full  pod  was  wafted  down  and 
found  lodgment  in  my  heart,  and  there  has 
been  no  more  of  hunger,  no  more  of  loneliness ; 
for  from  the  tiny  seed  a  wondrous  plant  has 
grown  that  knows  no  change  no  wavering,  that 
will  never  be  displaced  while  life  shall  last. 


76  (gu^it'B 


I  deal  with  my  life,  my  soul,  as  best  I 
may,  for  I  know  not  what  fate  or  destiny 
awaits  me  around  the  turn  of  the  path. 


What  a  kind  and  sympathetic  nurse  nature 
is!  She  gives  us  the  best  in  her  store  house, 
sympathizes  with  us  in  our  turbulent  moods, 
soothes  and  pets  us  in  her  magnetic  way,  and 
croons  us  to  sleep  in  the  quiet  evenings  with 
the  wind  harp's  lullabies. 


^. 


**  Teach  me  half  the  gladness  thy  soul 
must  know,*'  was  Shelley's  prayer  to  the  lark, 
and  I  echo  the  prayer  while  I  listen  to  the 
bird  notes  thrilling  and  exultant,  knowing  also 
that  it  is  not  hard  to  sing  in  the  glad  light  of 
the  early  morning  or  when  the  heart  is  young. 
Yet  in  my  heart  I  love  the  nightingale  that 
sings  through  the  darkness  and  gloom  of  the 
night.  Ever  and  ever  comes  the  recurring 
cheering  notes,  that  help,  that  uplift,  that  teach 
us  to  sing,  to  help  others,  if  not  ourselves,  in 
hours  of  gloom  and  sorrow.  The  dear  Lord 
must  have  created  these  little  singers  to  teach 
us  a  lesson  as  well  as  to  give  us  pleasure. 


(JUebttafionB  77 


WINTER  IN  SACRAMENTO 

The  eucalypti  from  far  Australia,  and 
feathery  acacias  blooming  in  midwinter  are  in 
my  own  garden,  while  the  glorious,  glowing 
camellias,  rich  in  semi-tropical  bloom,  show  an 
over-abundance  of  florescence  at  a  time  when 
ice  and  snow  wrap  the  Eastern  States  in  cold, 
death-like  embrace.  Here  in  our  fair  State's 
capital  we  revel  in  the  fragrance  of  daphnes, 
of  green  grass  and  clover  blooms,  among  which 
gleams  the  iris  of  Europe  and  Japan.  There 
are  quiet,  untroubled  waters,  where  float  the 
water  lilies  and  lotus  of  the  Orient,  and  in 
sunny  nooks  the  papyrus  of  the  Nile  waves  its 
gray,  bushy,  hair-like  head  and  nods  to  every 
passing  breeze.  California  is  truly  a  hospita- 
ble place,  where  plant  children  have  been  wel- 
comed from  all  quarters  of  the  globe,  and 
they,  in  return  for  the  welcome,  have  repaid 
for  their  nourishing  and  adoption  by  growing 
more  beautiful  and  more  varied  in  form  and 
color.  And  I,  living  amid  such  wealth  of  color 
and  beauty,  .count  myself  blessed,  and  see,  love, 
and  understand,  not  with  the  unseeing  eyes  of 
the  blind,  but  with  clearer  vision  love  the 
Master  Creator  and  Builder  all  the  more. 


78  ^c^U'b 


Who  knows?  A  sensitive  tightly  strung 
wire  may  prefer  to  carry  welcome  news  to  an 
unwelcome  message.  Let  us  imagine  it  so, 
and  ourselves  one,  and  carry  naught  but  good 
messages  or  news. 

The  flash  and  glitter  of  the  far-off  stars 
are  faint  to  my  dust-dimmed  eyes,  and  the 
chill  of  the  earth's  touch  grips  me  in  its  cold 
embrace.  Patience,  soul  of  mine,  for  beyond 
earth's  verge,  beyond  the  star-dusted  firma- 
ment, there  is  rest  and  peace.    We  can  wait ! 


What  a  blessing  life  would  be  to  some  of 
us  were  we  free  from  the  wherewithal  we 
should  be  clothed !  What  a  lot  of  valuable  time 
the  Igorrote  saves  in  the  matter  of  clothing! 
He  has  evolved  a  dress  that  at  least  is  in  keep- 
ing with  his  expectations;  for  if  it  is  cold,  he 
expects  it  to  turn  warm;  he  tightens  his  gee- 
string,  remains  **pacifico,''  and  life  is  never  a 
worry  to  him.  We  are  to  him  in  our  restless- 
ness like  ants  running  hither  and  thither  with 
clothing  enough  on  one  of  our  bodies  sufficient 
for  a  whole  village  of  Igorrotes.  The  simple 
in  costume  has  been  mastered  by  those  brown- 
skinned  people,  who  like  the  ^'huenos  aires" 
and  sunshine  on  their  bodies  and  are,  they  say, 
** always  well.'' 


QJtebifaiionB 


79 


My  imagination  has 
helped  me  to  enjoy  the 
glamor  of  the  past  as 
well  as  the  beauty  of 
the  present.  I  have 
lived,  and  not  on  the 
husks  of  life  either,  but 
rather  have  sipped  the 
nectar  and  ambrosia  of 
the  gods,  while  enjoy- 
ing mere  physical  delights  together  with  a 
contented  mind.  Traveling  has  helped  me, 
made  me  better.  I  have  felt  I  must  live  up 
to  the  pictures  I  have  seen  of  this  dear,  beau- 
tiful old  world  over  which  I  have  wandered  so 
much. 


Green,  the  color  of  hope,  was  around  me, 
and  in  the  glint  of  yellow  in  the  fields  I  saw 
hope's  fruition,  the  harvest.  The  winds  gath- 
ered up  the  sweet  country  scents  into  little 
bunches  of  sweetness  and  flung  them  at  me, 
as  I  rested,  drawing  checks  on  the  Bank  of 
Phantasy,  an  inspiration  from  my  surround- 
ings. 


80  (gecftie'0 


Wherever  we  are  placed,  in  whatever  con- 
dition or  position  we  may  have  to  live,  it  is 
wise  not  to  fret  or  worry  because  of  the  future. 
It  is  ever  beyond,  and  lifers  uncertainties  must 
be  accepted  and  lived  with  hopeful,  trusting 
hearts,  confident,  in  whatever  lies  beyond,  that 
it  is  in  the  hand  of  God. 


Grim  death  is  ever  stalking  our  footsteps 
like  the  dark  companion  of  the  great  star 
Procyon,  which  no  astronomer  has  ever  seen, 
but  of  whose  existence  he  is  certain,  because 
of  the  manner  in  which  it  draws  the  great  star 
in  an  elliptical  orbit.  So  we  go  on  and  on 
during  the  encircling  years  of  life,  ever  con- 
scious of  the  dark  shadow  that  we  know  exists, 
the  unseen,  sinister,  invisible  shadow  that  is 
ever  present,  however  we  may  laugh  in  the 
noontide  brilliancy  of  youth  and  health.  Ever 
conscious  that  the  shadow  will  obscure  us  and 
the  darkness  of  death  will  prevail.  There  is 
some  compensation  in  being  an  animal — the 
dog  is  spared  the  shadow  and  the  thought  of 
death. 


(J[nebtfation  81 


But  after  lifers  worries,  and  when  its 
little  span  is  ended,  under  the  equatorial  light 
of  God's  throne,  where  shadows  cannot  be, 
then,  indeed,  throughout  all  eternity  will  we 
not  have  our  recompense? 


Roasts  are  better  for  basting. 
So  are  the  clothes  we  wear. 

Our    manners    our    morals,    our 
living, 
Need  bastings  for  every  tear. 


LUANPbRIOD  '    " ^^^ 

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